


The Only Thing That Feels like Home

by orphan_account



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Spoilers for Season 8, pregnancy arc, txf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post that goddamn scene in Three Words when Mulder gets out of hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Thing That Feels like Home

His pillow smelled like when he buried his face in Scully's hair. 

He tried not to picture her sleeping in his bed, still in black from his funeral. He tried not to picture her from earlier in the day, eyes full of tears in front of him. The weight of every wrong word he said crushing them in his lounge room. He had looked around his apartment like a stranger after she'd left, trying to feel like himself, trying to remember where he was when he was dead 

He only noticed that he was jogging to her apartment when he passed her corner store. It was only after he'd knocked that he noticed he should have called her first. She opened the door and looked surprised to see him, then smiled, then her eyes went all sad in a way he had seen to many times. 

"I should have asked to come over, I just went running and I guess I ended up here." 

Scully stepped back, "Well you'd better come in then."  


They both hovered in the lounge room in silence and Mulder regretted coming. Scully left to make tea. The wall above her couch was adorned with pictures in frames. Missy and Scully in matching white dresses as children. Her family around her on her medical school graduation day. And he was there too, in a picture she had taken of him years ago with a milk moustache left just to make her laugh. In another from her birthday his own face was lit with a cheesy smile, Scully looked like she was humouring him. His arm was draped over her shoulders. 

It was rare that he spent time looking around her apartment, a stack of novels sat on the coffee table amid papers. X Files, mostly. Some newspaper clippings. His own name jumped up at him, "The Last Will and Testament of Fox William Mulder" he picked up the documents and crushed them in his fists, dropping them into her paper bin. 

The kitchen was bright and Mulder watched the way Scully moved now, the way her fingers would brush her rounded belly as though checking it was still there. 

"I only have herbal tea, I hope that's okay." She spoke quietly. 

He owed her an apology, he just didn't know what for. 

I'm sorry I died and you had to handle it without me. 

They both set down their steaming mugs and sat on the couch, the pictures of before hanging over their heads. Mulder saw it in a flash as she lent forward. A jagged scar on her neck, red and long. He thought about tiny metal chips and brain scans. His hands covered the scar without thought. They were trembling. 

"Who did this to you." 

She sighed, sitting back up, his arms dropped to his lap. He clenched fists to stop the shaking. 

"There's a lot..." Scully paused. Her eyes darted away. "A lot you weren't here for." 

He decided that as soon as she told him who did this he'd go and kill them. Tonight if possible. 

"I should never have gone to Oregon." 

She shook her head, "Not now. Please." 

He swore her lip trembled. Everything he said felt mean. He didn't know how to ask about the baby. He didn't know if it was his place to. He didn't want to remind her of the months between them, the longest they'd gone apart since meeting. He reached up and rubbed the place that her neck met her shoulder and he thought about how when he was in the ship he used to scream out Scully's name. 

Scully. Scully. 

Suddenly he couldn't bare the parts of him that weren't pressed to her. Wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. They lay down like that, him curled behind her, pressing soft kisses to that terrible scar. 

He practiced telepathy with her and gave her all the apologies he could think of, moved a hand tentatively over her bump and felt the tremors in her body as she cried. 

Later, she woke to feel little feet moving against Mulder's palm- spread warm across her belly. One day she would tell the baby stories about them. Tales of adventure. Scary stories. Stories of two souls finding each other again and again. One day she would tell the baby about coming back to life, about rifts in time you might find in the ocean. One day she would say, "His hand was a blanket over you when you were still in my body."


End file.
